


Make it happen

by noelia_g



Category: Wizards of Waverly Place
Genre: F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-06
Updated: 2010-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelia_g/pseuds/noelia_g





	Make it happen

It's not actually her fault.

True, Alex Russo had concocted many a plan to drive her brother Justin absolutely insane, but it's been things like stealing his lightsaber, or putting his dolls (excuse her, action figures) in the oven, or, well, dying his hair hot pink with a magic irremovable dye the day before his high school graduation… but hey, it was normal, she was his little sister, that was her job.

And this was, whatever Justin tries to tell you, not her fault, and definitely not her plan.

She blames Monica, her roommate, who is not all that bad, even though she has an abysmal taste in music and is, shudder, a morning person. But she also insists on setting Alex up on blind dates with the fraternity brothers of her boyfriend and it's just driving Alex up the wall, because after the freshman year and the Omega Delta Pi rush party fiasco she has a really strict policy of shunning the greek system altogether.

So sue her, she invents a boyfriend. Yes, it's cliché, yes, it's pathetic, but at least he's not from Canada. She draws a line at fake Canadian boyfriends, so hers is from New York, currently going to Yale, is tall, dark, smart, and they will be spending the Spring Break together.

In retrospect, she probably should have magicked a fake boyfriend out of a shop mannequin. Manny Quinn was such an awesome boyfriend. Except the whole developing feelings fiasco. Don't you hate it when the fake boyfriends do that?

In retrospect, and Alex hates the retrospect, it's a total bitch; she probably shouldn't have shown Monica Justin's picture. But well, what choice did she have? Not like she had any other pictures, or like she could conjure one just like that, as if by magic.

Oh, wait.

Still, not her fault. Whatever Justin says.

And when the Spring Break rolls around, and Monica hangs out a day longer just so she could meet Alex's awesome boyfriend (that bitch), Alex has no choice but to ask (well, blackmail is such an ugly word) Justin to get his ass to California and be all fake-boyfriendly.

"What did you do now, Alex?" Justin asks the moments he crosses the doorstep and since Monica is watching, Alex can't have that, can't have him spoil this with his big mouth and his high and mightly lectures.

"Honey, you're here!" she yells at the top of her voice and jumps him, her legs around his waist, his hands going up instinctively to support her as she plants a wet one on him. "I missed you so much, sweetheart," she adds, her look pointed and promising deadly consequences if he dares to say anything to spoil this.

She shouldn't have worried, his apparently way too dazzled to say anything, blinking confusedly and she shouldn't find it cute. And she doesn't. No, sir. Because Justin is not cute at all, not even with the apparently newly acquired stubble.

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," Monica says, winking and leering (that bitch) as she passes them on her way out. "Nice to finally meet you, Justin."

The doors shut and Alex slides down, her feet on the floor again, waiting for the inevitable.

"What the hell are you doing, Alex?" And here it comes.

She shrugs. "You're my fake boyfriend. Congratulations."

Justin breathes out, then in, then out again. It's those stupid breathing exercises to calm himself down; they never seemed to work when she was around though, so there clearly must be rubbish. "And why am I your fake boyfriend?"

"I only had your and Max's pictures at hand. Or Dad's but, well, you know," she grimaces, because this thought is going to send her to the bathroom, to drink bleach and hope it rubs the pictures off her brain. "You are much more age appropriate and, well, I needed someone reasonably attractive. Can't date a troll," she adds, hoping he won't dwell on the 'reasonably attractive part'.

"Alex," he tells her, shaking his head. "You did date a troll."

"Details. Olaf was a very nice guy, and as someone who dated vampires, werewolves, and might I remind you, centaurs, your higher moral ground is officially very, very low," she tells him, then bites her lip. "And your hand is still on my ass."

"Oh. Sorry," he says, pulling it back as if he had been burned.

What can she say, she does have a hot ass. Get it, hot ass? No? Okay.

"So, what's your grand evil plan?" Justin asks with resignation. Alex beams; she does love it when he gets roped into her schemes.

"Well, we hang out here for a while, making Monica thing we're, you know, canoodling."

"Canoodling?"

"I'm trying it out, don't spoil it," she says. "Then we're going out for drinks with Monica and her boyfriend Troy."

"Troy?"

"I know, right?" she grimaces. "Fine, let's get to work," she says and turns to methodically ruffle her bedcovers and punch her pillow a few times. "This should do. Now, you," she orders and pulls him closer, running her hand through his hair a few times.

And that's when there's a soft knock and the doors start to open and she reacts instinctively, pushing Justin down onto the bed, climbing atop of him to straddle his lap.

"Alex," he hisses as her hips buckle against his and she thinks that what she feels happening there could provide a sufficient honest surprise on her face as she turns to face Monica.

"Oh, sorry, guys. Forgot my purse," the girl says and snatches it from her desk. "Do carry on," she adds cheerfully (that bitch). "And better hang a sock on the doorknob. Just a thought."

It's a long moment before either of them speaks, or moves.

"Alex," Justin says and stops and she nods and crawls off him, purposefully walking to her drawer and taking a sock out of it, going to hang it on the doorknob on the outside. Then, slowly, she locks the doors.

"On the plus side, I think we sold your fake story to your roommate," Justin mutters.

"Yep," she says, leaning against the closed doors. "Sold, fake, that," she nods emphatically. He hadn't moved an inch, still sprawled on her bed, propping himself up on his elbows, hair all tousled and his face so flustered.

"Alex," he says warningly, and honestly, no one can say her name in as many different ways as Justin can. It's kind of, well, it's kind of hot.

Oh, shit, she's screwed now, isn't she? In all kinds of ways, and if she does this next thing right, maybe in that one particular way too.

She smiles, slowly. "So," she drawls, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I have the Sorority Row special edition dvd, and we can totally watch it without transporting ourselves into the movie…"

"I thought you were dead set against the greek system."

"Not when they all die terrible painful deaths," she shrugs. "So, there's that. Or…" she continues, walking back to the bed, kicking one of Justin's ankles aside, moving to stand between his spread legs. "We can pass the time in some other way."

"Alex," he says once more, and it's pleading and soft and the answer to her question.

"Yes, hi, have we met?" she says sweetly and straddles his lap again, reaching to grasp his hair and pull him closer, kissing him for real this time, biting his lower lip just because she can, just to hear him make a really awesome sound deep in his throat. "You know, this is awesome, I've been looking for a way to shut you up for years, and here it is."

"Why don't you shut up?" he mutters back, his lips hot against her throat, finally finding his cool again (not that Justin was ever cool, of course), fingers rolling the spaghetti straps of her top down her shoulders, then pushing the top down her body. It puddles around her midriff, exposing her red bra, and Justin groans, his head bowing as he traces kisses down her collarbone.

Alex arches her back, and she's rubbing herself over his hard cock, and hell, there's too many layers of clothing between them. His hand sneaks into her bra, warm and big, his thumb flickering over her nipple and she moans loudly, bites her lip to keep from growing even more vocal. Thin walls, and this is no longer for show.

Justin shifts under her, and then suddenly he's flicking them over, his weight strangely well-fitting over her. Her dark hair spills everywhere, gets into her mouth and she reaches to brush it aside, breathing harshly. "Fuck, Justin, when did you get so good at this?" she asks wonderingly and Justin's knee spreads her legs forcefully, and she can't help but rub herself against him again.

"Benefits of a college education. You should try it sometime," he mutters and kisses away her answering moan.

Justing crawls down her body, his tongue and lips mapping her flushed skin. This might be another case of Alex Russo getting more than she bargained for, but hell, she can take more, can take it all, and he's undoing her jeans and slowly rolling them down her legs. She raises her hips to help him and he uses the moment to get her out of her panties as well.

She reaches out to tangle her fingers in his hair, to tug and make him raise his head, look at her, and he smiles, eyes clouded and full of wonder. "You're so pretty like this," he tells her, and she wants to tell him there's no need to sound surprised, but he leans in, gives her pussy a slow lick and she can only close her eyes and bite her lip.

Justin's hands are strong on her things, spreading her open, and he works her undone with his tongue, quick and sharp like he can be when they argue, and she's coming in no time, begging him for more.

"Come here," she demands when she gets her voice back, and it comes out rough and hoarse and needy, and she reaches to pull him close, fumbling with the zipper of his pants. "I want you to fuck me now, Justin. I need you to…"

She always needs him, in so many different ways, and now even more than ever, needs him to fill her, to have him as close as possible, buried inside her.

He must be painfully hard, she thinks as she gives his cock a few strokes before she guides him inside her, moves to accommodate him. He pushes in slowly, experimentally, groaning when he finds her warm and ready. Alex starts moving under him, encouraging his thrusts, and it doesn't take long until she's swallowing his groans, tasting the words spilling from his lips.

"You feel so good," he mutters into her neck. "So perfect for me, so…" he doesn't finish, not coherently anyway, the rest is lost in a guttural groan before he finds her lips again, kisses her roughly and she shudders, coming again, announcing it to the whole wide world and the neighbours behind the wall and he follows soon after, coming inside her.

It's so still afterwards, as Justin rolls over to his side, buries his face in her neck, breathing harshly. Alex laughs, quietly, happily.

"You're the best fake boyfriend ever."

"Alex," he says with exasperation and she kisses him again, because it's just too tempting .

"No, really. You're so much better than the mannequin. I'm definitely keeping you."

He rolls his eyes, just as she expected him to, but it's not his best effort. "What am I going to do with you, Alex?" he asks wonderingly and she shrugs, stretching lazily.

"Whatever you want. That's the fun part."


End file.
